He's Just Crazy!
by xAgentsheepx
Summary: For the first time in history, a Terrarian has spawned with his memories intact. Between his general lunacy and the constant rambling about a multiverse theory, the guide isn't sure if this one can save their dying world or the nearly dozen races living on it.


**AN: Character names/appearance and world history are based off of the web-comic series "The Legend of Maxx" by Jesse. The story plotline will be inspired by LoM but will follow its own distinct path. Character personalities will most likely not be the same as seen in LoM. Terraria is of course owned by Re-Logic.**

* * *

/Chapter 1/

The guide didn't quite understand his new… partner? Leader? It was his first time ever actually being attached to a Terrarian, but he was sure that this wasn't quite how it was supposed to go.

"Must've been… dimensional travel? Impossible…"

The guide watched him as he paced in circles around a small tree, his movements already imprinting a sort of circle in the grass. He wore an unusual selection of clothing, a light shade of yellow-brown for pants and a grayish-purple shirt. He had brown hair, somewhat bright skin, and an unusual dull shade of purple eyes. The guide couldn't help but imagine that the Terrarian would suffer greatly from sun burns. He didn't look like one to get out in the sun very much, similar to some of the human nobles up in Asramore.

"Inventory… inventory. The tools have to be somewhere…"

The guide had heard stories from some of the older guides who had been assigned Terrarians. Of course, all of those Terrarians were dead. One didn't appear unless the previous perished and failed to fulfill the prophecy. Though, he wouldn't really consider it a prophecy. Being destined to fight horrible creatures such as the Eye of Cthulhu wasn't considered one of the best the Seers had popped out. Why couldn't it have been something nice and simple? Like a bowl with a goldfish. Yeah, those cute little creatures aimlessly swimming in circles until the end of their time.

"Oh!" the Terrarian gasped, a rather crude axe appearing into his hands. The man seemed oddly pleased himself.

The guide had to admit, seeing such ability for the first time in person really was amazing. To pull objects out from nowhere, kind of like a spatial storage, wasn't new. The fact that he'd felt no mana released did. This was not magic.

The lessons on the Terrarians covered this topic specifically and the wide, but limited, capabilities of the powerful race. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe this man could possibly become something akin to a god. Still, the guide had his duty. He was to help the Terrarian with any intellectual assistance he may require or generally keep him on course towards fulfilling the prophecy.

"Does gravity work here I wonder?" The guide frowned as he listened. Was it not supposed to? Oh well, it was time he introduced himself.

"E-excuse me, sir?" he asked, stepping forwards and coughing into his hand to garner his attention.

"Ah!" the Terrarian breathed once more, for the first time noticing him. "You must be the guide!"

 _How did you know that_ , the guide thought to himself.

They weren't supposed to have any memories, much less know who their guide was at first. In fact, most Terrarians had to be educated by their guides on just about… everything.

"Oh, I-I am," the guide replied, glancing down at the axe in his hands. Strange, he had been taught that he'd have to explain the concept of an Inventory to his Terrarian. Had the Masters gotten it wrong? "You must be the Terrarian. My oath as a guide has assigned me as your personal assistant and guide for the foreseeable future."

"Terrarian…" the man in question frowned, seemingly delving into deep thought. "By the way, may I ask who assigned you to me?"

So he was only familiar with guides to an extent. He didn't seem as bewildered as he'd expected. He'd expected him to start asking where he was or what happened to his memories. The textbooks taught that Terrarians were normally confused and scared when the first awaken. Later, they usually become adept adventurers, eager to jump headfirst into danger… before they'd die painful horrible deaths. This one seemed calm and collected.

"I'm sure you must be greatly confused. I am Cyril, the first guide to approach you and therefore bound to you by order of the Grand Council."

"Grand Council? That's new," the Terrarian muttered, running his fingers along the side of his chin. "Next you'll tell me there's a whole civilization out there as well?"

The guide, now identified as Cyril, did not respond. The reason being that there were indeed numerous civilizations out there, albeit dwindling in power. Did he honestly believe that he had a guide spontaneously appear into existence alongside with him? He had an origin.

"We're getting of topic…" Cyril sighed, unsure of what else to do but to simply move on. "I am to guide you on your quest to fulfill the-

"Wow, hold on there Guidey!" the Terrarian sputtered, waving his hands out. "I didn't sign up for some big crazy adventure!"

"My _name_ is- What?" This was… unexpected. He'd only been taught to give the Terrarian advice on what next to do. Everything always led up to the ultimate power between the Terrarian and the keeper of the underworld, no questions asked. The previous were always eager to accept the task. It never crossed Cyril's mind that he'd end up as an attachment to one who was unwilling. "What do you mean? You're the next Terrarian! You can't _not_ fulfill your duty!"

"Says who?"

"Says... t-the Great Prophets!"

"I don't know what cult you're part of, but I'm not joining anyone on their holy crusades to fire some massive rings of destruction," he huffed, crossing his arms. It was so childishly obnoxious that Cyril could feel his eyes begin to twitch. His training certainly did not prepare him for this.

"Okay… so then what do _you_ want to do," he pointed out, having given up. He'd deal with this later. Night was falling and the undead tended to feast on those outdoors in the dark. Of course he didn't expect this obnoxious _imbecile_ to know that. Cyril didn't even want to ask him for his name, just about the only thing Terrarians were supposed to remember upon appearing.

"Suppose a house would be nice. Can zombies still break through doors here or does putting a door two layers higher prevent that?"

Why did he even bother?

/-/

"The Council has granted you audience," the guard stated, silver armor lined fancily with streaks of gold around the edges gleaming in the colored rays of sunlight that shone through the great stained glass windows of the Grand Hall.

Orion Osborn merely snorted in response as he got up to be escorted to the council room chambers. Of course they would. They tried to act as if they had the power to ignore what he had to say. He was the Realm Messenger, the gateway of all valuable information in the entirety of the lands amongst the races.

Two more guards posted at the entrance to the main chamber stepped aside to allow Orion in as he approached. As he stepped inside, he took note that there were several new faces amongst the many rows of representatives. Then the many empty seats spread amongst them. With the recent losses against the abominations brought forth by the quickly spreading corruption, heads were bound to roll. When things went bad, someone had to become the scapegoat.

Then there was the fact that the Djinns had withdrawn from the council, the race of fire cutting all ties and closing the borders of their territories to all diplomatic and trade interaction. Even the Naiads had gone dark, not even persisting their usual naval assault along the Dryad coastlines. It was a mess.

"Master Osborn," Councilmen Holmes, one of the head members and the leader of the humans, greeted curtly from his highchair. "You bring news from the frontlines?"

"Of course, the arrival of Dwarf and Human reinforcements has bolstered the Dryad frontlines. As of now, the battle has locked into a stalemate against the most resent Dark Horde," Orion informed, glancing over to the Dwarf side of the chamber. Councilmen Jargon and the several dozen representatives behind him were a prideful race, taking pleasure in the obvious need for the expertise in explosives. "But that is not why I am here."

"Oh?"

"Recently, one of my newest Guides delivered a message through a carrier-bird," the Realm Messenger answered, drawing several murmured whispers. Councilmen Holmes leaned forwards, already knowing where he was going. A simple Guide's message would never hold importance unless it pertained to one specific situation.

Then there was also the massive beam of incredibly bright and powerful energy that practically lit up the morning sky.

"Terrarian?"

"Correct."

"Preposterous!" Councilmen Ruhr spat, the Goblin Leader standing up and motioning to his fellow Councilmen. "It has merely been a year since the fall of the Terrarian Landor! His predecessor preceded him nearly a decade!"

"I agree with the Goblin," Jargon growled, running a hand through his beard. "It's unheard of for a Terrarian to spawn so quickly after the previous. Half a decade maybe, but a single year? Hah!"

"Are you certain your guide is trustworthy? For all we know, the Corruption has infected his mind," Holmes sighed, holding up a hand to silence the others.

"Cyril has only ever traversed the lands of the southern territory. If he's been infected, then I'd be more worried about the obvious breach of our frontlines," Orion grunted. He'd known Cyril since he'd shown up at the steps of the Hall of Intellect, just a scrawny little boy searching for meaning. He'd turned out be to be one of their best guides, so much that Orion doubted the young man would be foolish enough to have his mind infested with the dark abominations. "His use of his personal signature confirms that the message was indeed by his own hands. I've never known a corrupted to maintain the victims' memories. I trust his word with my life."

"And I trust yours. You have never failed us before," Holmes responded quickly. Orion smirked on the inside. At least these councilors were smart enough to know to never get on his bad side. Many of the royals, especially the human ones, were known to view themselves higher than others of lower status.

"I assume your guide has followed proper procedure?" a dryad spoke up for the first time since the meeting had begun. The Head Councilor of the Dryads stood taller than any of the other races, the Dwarves and Goblins naturally smaller species unless you took into account the Goblin's warrior breeds. Holmes was in no way a short man, but the Dryad was massive even by his own race's standards.

"Councilmen Annoris," Orion greeted, but the Dryad had no interest in formalities as it seems. He never did. "Cyril has already dedicated himself to informing and leading the Terrarian on path. Despite… minor setbacks, he has stated that he finally thinks this one might be _the one_."

"The _one_ , bah!" Jargon scoffed. "The same could be said for the last dozen! Landor barely made it through his first battle before being taken by a giant _worm_."

"We do _not_ have the luxury to carry doubt amongst us. The prophecy clearly states that a Terrarian will come to crush the darkness. It never clarified which one," Holmes hissed towards the Dwarf.

"We'll see how long this one lasts," Ruhr muttered, shaking his blue scaly head. The goblin suddenly frowned when he noticed Orion still standing in the center of the room, his mind falling into deep thought. "You have something to say, speak!"

"I don't need to point out that we're losing ground quickly to the Corruption. Soon, they will encroach upon the lands of the Dryad. The diverse wildlife turned into weapons and marched towards our very location. Doesn't it seem more than a coincidence that the Terrarian would appear regardless of the age of Landor's corpse? We're falling on hard times, it almost seems like _something_ out there is getting desperate to stop it." Orion hummed, stroking the silk of his robes.

"Do you believe in a greater power, Orion?" Holmes asked, honestly curious to the man's belief.

"I believe that we all have a role in destiny. It just depends on what it has in store for us at the end. I hope that fate has survival planned for us all in the foreseeable future and this is its way of showing it."

The council went silent, even the lower Councilmen who played minor roles in the decision making. Annoris held a cold expression as he always did. For a being barely clothed in only leaves and vines, it was very hard to read him. Jargon seemed mildly interested, already making guesses on what surprising way this Terrarian might fall. Ruhr was… well the goblin always appeared aggressive. There was intelligence behind their irate nature, the only reason why their kind was powerful enough to be seated amongst them, but it was still always a challenge to speak to him. Holmes was nodding his head slowly in agreement.

"The Terrarian… how does your guide describe him?" Annoris finally asked. Oh boy.

"W-well that's quite the interesting question…" Orion chuckled nervously, glancing around at anything by the Dryad. Of course this one would care the most. If the corruption was not stopped soon, his people would be amongst the first to fall. "As Cyril describes him… he's a very… efficient individual. Doesn't like wasting time. Resourceful. He's also… unusual."

"Unusual?"

"Yes, as in weird or uncommon," Orion rambled. The Realm Messenger couldn't help but wither under the growing glare of the Dryad representative. "H-he's… adept to using a variety of tools and a blade as expected of all Terrarians, likely more so than those before him. He's just not… motivated?"

Orion forced a smile, but it came out more like a pained wince. Annoris had heard enough, turning to one of the other Dryads standing behind him.

"Send for my daughter. I have a task for her."

/-/

"I don't mean to besmirch the extent of your house-buildings skills…"

"Are you saying this is not enough? I mean, come on! It's eight by eight tiles wide, there's a chair, a table, a light source, and a door!" Maxx pointed out with an exasperated look.

Oh yes, that was his name. Maxx, with two X's. The Terrarian was extremely adamant that Cyril remember that. He'd sent the messenger bird just a mere hour ago. Being a creature of magic, it should have found Master Orion by now. He'd detailed just about everything that had occurred up until the creation of the letter, including his observations of the famed Terrarian powers.

Watching him work at first was awe-inspiring. The Guide had never seen someone lay wood so quickly and efficiently. If he had to guess, those planks might even be perfect copies of each other down to the smallest degree of measurement. It really had been something when he fell a tree in several seconds, but _absorbing_ it and converting the material into planks? Cyril wasn't sure if he was ready for all the ground-breaking abilities a Terrarian had to offer.

Before that, he'd even taken his blade and cut down several minor creatures approaching them from the depths of the forest. They were nothing truly powerful. Cyril felt he could've handled them well enough. He hadn't expected Maxx to draw his blade and easily reduce them all to nothing more than scattered pieces, slimes and wolves alike. Terrarians truly were an amazing race.

If only he weren't so…

"I mean… the NPC housing requirements have all been fulfilled…" Maxx muttered, glancing around as if he were searching for a hole in the wall. There he went again, rambling on about such strange topics. What even was an NPC?

"I'm not sure if I have a right to complain…" Cyril sighed, shaking his head. "But don't you think a proper housing consists _more_ than just a table and chair?"

Maxx stared at Cyril…

Then back at the table.

"Maybe the whole… being actually alive really does change things up a bit," Maxx mused. Cyril couldn't help but feel an impending sense of doom when the Terrarian began rubbing his hands together in that _'Evil Plan'_ fashion. "I know what you need."

"And what might that be?"

"A nice cozy campfire," Maxx replied. Before Cyril could respond, the entire one roomed house was washed in warmth and an aura of orange glow as Maxx slapped down a _fire_ in the middle of the room.

"W-what are you doing?!" Cyril gawked, scrambling away from the open flame. The torches were fine, they were latched to the wall and suspended further out enough so that it the flame wouldn't lick the wooden walling. This though… this was a _bonfire_. "You'll burn the place down!"

"It's a campfire," Maxx replied, holding his hands out to it for warmth.

"Put that thing out!" A moment later, a brown leather coat went over the flame as Cyril began stomping down on it. Maxx had to gall to actually appear offended.

"Okay, that's not cool."

"Do you know what _isn't_ cool? Living in a pile of ash!" Cyril was sure he should be holding his tongue. The Terrarian _had_ built this in the first place, but that meant it was the only thing that would stand between them and the undead once night fall.

Cyril knew he could survive as he done so for the last three years. The issue was that he was bound by duty to assist the Terrarian. Could the Terrarian survive? Maybe, maybe not. Maxx didn't seem to be taking everything… seriously. Cyril would not be the first guide to lose his Terrarian on their first night.

"Right," Maxx sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "In my defense, fire-spread isn't a thing I'm used to. Devs never implemented it."

"I don't even know anymore…" Cyril muttered to himself, silently counting up to ten. "Let's start over. Hi Maxx."

"Greeting Guidey."

" _No_. My name is _Cyril_. I _am_ your Guide and the one who is supposed to inform you of your role in the prophecy." Cyril was earnestly surprised when the Terrarian frowned. It seemed Maxx could be serious when he had to.

"This… prophecy. Tell me about it," Maxx asked as he pulled out the only chair in the structure to sit down.

"Okay, good. We're getting somewhere," Cyril sighed in relief. "The Dryads have recorded history since the beginning of time, their oldest records stating that the world was imbued with the power of four elements so that it may flourish. Alongside them came a race to represent each element. The Dryads of Earth, the Harpies of Air, the Naiads of Water, and the Djinns of Fire."

"Did the Fire Nation attack?" Maxx snorted. Cyril had a hunch that he was just being stupid and chose to ignore him.

"Above the four great elements came two opposing forces of light and dark. Today they are known as the Corruption and Hallow." Cyril noticed Maxx's eyes go wide momentarily, confirming he was indeed familiar with the ancient spirits. "They were created to always oppose and balance the world… Then everything changed when the Water Empire attacked."

Cyril had never seen someone appear so disappointed.

"R-right… Water Nation. The Naiads."

"Overtime, they were seduced by the Corruption and turned against the other races. It became their goal to convert the entire world into corruption. At first, they were held back. Only the Dryads at the time took the threat seriously, but the Hallow quickly laid siege to the many islands under Naiad control. For a while, it appeared the Naiads were in way over their head…" Cyril sighed and shook his head. It didn't take a rocket scientist to sense the foreshadowing.

"They got an edge."

"Yes, Night's _Edge_ to be exact. It was the legendary sword forged from the four treasured swords of the four elemental races. With it, the Naiad king traveled to the Underworld where he sacrificed his entire council to summon and bind an ancient terrible demon to his weapon. From there, he commanded that it seal away the Hallow… He didn't expect for the Corruption to fade from existence alongside it."

"Corruption has lore now…" the Terrarian noted before his eyes narrowed. "I'm assuming that wasn't the end of the Corruption though, was it?"

"Nearly two centuries ago, the Corruption began to creep up to the surface from an ancient ruin. Before anyone could stop it, the damage had been done and it had infested enough to form a sizable force to begin a campaign against us. At some point, two great beasts appeared from the heart of the Corruption: The Eye of Cthulhu and-

"The Eater of Worlds," Maxx finished leaning back in his chair. He was doing it again, knowing things that he shouldn't. Cyril wasn't sure what to think.

"Yes. The prophecy declares that a Terrarian will appear one day to defeat both great beasts before venturing into hell itself to vanquish the Keeper of the Underworld."

"The Wall of Flesh."

"What?" Cyril had never heard that term before. Maxx sighed and shook his head. It was almost like he'd expected _him_ to not know it. _He_ the Guide! Then again, so far the Terrarian seemed to know so much more than he should. He wasn't like the others that came before him, eager to venture off to their death.

This one seemed like he knew what he was doing.

"As far as I can see-" Maxx began, the fingers of his right hand drumming against the wood of the table. "-your Prophecy follows along the general line of progression. I'll have to do it at some point anyways."

"S-so you accept your part in the prophecy?" Cyril felt he deserved a medal for this.

"Yes, I accept. Though I feel like that prophecy is missing a lot." Maxx didn't comment or explain any further. Instead he got up slowly and headed for the door. "Come on, _Guidey_."

"It's not- Oh forget it!" Cyril sputtered, following after. The sun had barely reached its highest point. That gave them plenty of time to do whatever they had to before the undead would rise. Cyril wasn't exactly sure what Maxx wanted to do. He didn't have much equipment besides his basic crude tools, the raw materials he had harvested from the wild, and some materials he had collected from several living slimes that had attempted to attack him.

Safe to say, Maxx knew how to swing a blade.

"I appreciate the history lesson, but tell me more about the geography," Maxx asked, examining their surrounding area. It was nothing special. They were surrounded by mostly forest in all directions. There was a mountain to their East and a lake just south of them they could always go to for fresh water.

"You're unfamiliar with these lands?" Cyril asked. It was a stupid question.

If he didn't know of the prophecy, why would he know about the land? He wasn't sure what the extent of the Terrarian's knowledge was. Cyril was certain that Maxx was at least familiar with his abilities as a Terrarian, or at least was grasping faster than the previous Terrarian's were told to have.

"Think of me as a foreigner from a distant land. You're my tour guide."

"A-alright well," Cyril mumbled, running a hand through the hair on the back of his head. Maxx had already gotten started, his axe chopping away into the nearest tree. He wasn't sure why Max was gathering more wood. He had plenty left over from the small house. "The land mass we reside on is named Terraria, a large continent consisting of large biomes taking up their own portion of the land and a collection of nearly a hundred different islands off the eastern coast."

Maxx gave a grunt to show that he was listening, already getting to his fifth tree with incredible speed.

"The main races reside separately in their own domains. The Dryads keep to the Southwester Jungles, the Naiads to the Eastern Islands and the Oceans, the Djinn to the Northern Scorch Deserts, and the Harpies to the Great Sky Islands," Cyril explained. Another five trees went down in moments. The stumps were made quick work of.

"No Northern anything?"

"Well the North-East consists of the Dwarven Mountains. The North-West makes of the Goblin dominated snow lands. Not much else up there in all honesty. There are a few other minor races scattered about, but none of much importance," Cyril finished, causing Maxx to pause mid-swing and glance up towards the Guide.

"And where do we Humans fit into all of this?" Cyril didn't miss how Maxx considered himself a human. True, Terrarians never exhibited any physical features that separated them from any other ordinary human. When Cyril thought about it, could their abilities simply be magic? All humans possessed mana, some more than others, which served to further widen their options of expertise.

"I… guess you could say we're the odd ones," the guide chuckled, leaning his head back and shaking his head. "A lot of the other species view us as enigmas. We're wizards, swordsmen, mechanics, archers, blacksmiths, politicians, merchants. All the other species revolve around a single strength while Humans always seem to struggle to find their place."

"Sounds about right," Maxx commented, watching another tree collapse in on itself only to be absorbed into the Terrarian before any of it hit the ground.

"May I ask… what are you doing?" the guide questioned.

"Clearing land. Do you honestly think we're going to be living in a crappy one roomed house?" Maxx snorted, standing up straight and resting his axe against his shoulder. "No, I'm going to probably slap on twenty-three rooms so that I won't ever have to worry about any of the NPC's wanting more rooms to settle. Then I'm going to make sure there's a big enough room so that I can dump items I want to horde every time I decide to go traversing the depths of some cavern system."

Cyril wasn't sure what the Terrarian was spouting about. The word NPC meant nothing to him.

"You know I'm supposed to bring you forth to the Grand Council?" he sighed. Obviously, Maxx already had formulated a long-term plan. Better to bust his bubble now then later.

"For what reason?"

"To receive your equipment of course. If the world is depending on your success, don't you think they'd want to make sure you are prepared to go up against the Corruption?" Cyril answered, watching Maxx expectantly. The Terrarian didn't seem convinced, instead turning around to continue laying waste to the surrounding forest. "They're offering armor of pure silver, forged in the great flames of the dwarves."

"Oh wow, _silver_ armor." Obviously Maxx was not impressed, though Cyril couldn't see why.

The armor offered valuable protection, easily surpassing the basic iron armor of the foot soldiers and infantry. While there were many other variants of armor known to Cyril that could surpass it, there was simply no way to get it. The last Terrarian had been offered the only set of armor known to man to be forged directly out of meteorite which was now lost to the Corruption, likely buried deep underneath a pulsating pass of purple organic tissue. "How long would this trip take?"

"Give or take, two weeks on foot."

"Two weeks?!"

"If you have a better way of obtaining armor of equal or surpassing stature, please do tell," Cyril grunted. He didn't quite like the way the Terrarian began to grin.

"This-" Cyril watched as Maxx slapped down a small table, something which the Terrarian had referred to as a workbench. From what he had been taught, Terrarians were supposed to be able to utilize it to craft certain things out of the most basic raw materials. "-is the quickest and most efficient way of producing _anything_ in the world. All it takes is to have the materials on hand and I can produce something that might take days to carve or shape."

"That leaves your method of obtaining said materials in question."

"Yes, well obviously I'll get what I need the same way any other Terrarian is supposed to." Maxx snickered. His axe disappeared from his hand, replaced with a copper pickaxe.

Cyril was familiar with the other most notorious Terrarian ability. He'd never seen it before, but previous Terrarians were said to erect entire fortresses in days… and tear them down in minutes. All it took was one pickaxe and they'd be enabled to break through nearly any material in the world.

"I believe I understand what your plan is…"

"Good, so then tell me: does there happen to be any ores the area?" What kind of question was that, of course there was.

"There are the common veins of copper, tin, iron, lead, silver, and Tungsten. If you go deep enough, you'll come across the rarer gold and platinum ores," Cyril listed off from the top of his head. This information was rather well known common knowledge.

"Then ore distribution really is the same as I remember… If these ores are so common, how does this silver armor become such a _great_ piece of hardware," Maxx scoffed, crossing his arms. "Surely platinum and gold armor surpasses it? All these species pooling their resources together and the best they can come up with are silver."

"If they could offer more, they would!" the Guide snapped. "Do I need to tell you of what lurks in the darkness of the caverns? The dead walk in the night, but down in the caves comes even more. We're not like _you_ , we can't just go down there and slash away at whatever creature comes crawling out of its hole. It costs resources and soldiers to send expeditions beneath the surface. We're losing a war, Maxx."

"Then we already know how I'm getting those metals. We're going mining Guidey."

It took Cyril several seconds or running his declaration through his mind.

" _We?_ "


End file.
